


To Your Union

by as_with_a_sunbeam



Series: Morristown [4]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 1780, Albany - Freeform, December 14, F/M, Fluff, Insecurity, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-14 04:14:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10528731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/as_with_a_sunbeam/pseuds/as_with_a_sunbeam
Summary: December 14, 1780. Albany, New York. The preparations are completed. The guests have all arrived. It was a beautiful day for a wedding. If only the groom could stop quaking with fear...Hamilton and Eliza get married.





	1. Wedding Day

Hamilton tugged the tailcoat into place and brushed his palm over the shoulder to rid the soft velvet material of a stubborn piece of lint. Staring at his reflection, he reached his hand behind his head to check that his queue was still in place. Finally, he checked his pocket for the beautifully embroidered handkerchief Eliza had gifted him last night in exchange for the miniature portrait he’d had painted by the great Charles Wilson Peale the last time he’d been at headquarters painting the General.

As good as it was going to get, he decided, cocking his head to the side as he looked into his bleary eyes, slightly bruised with exhaustion. He exhaled softly. His stomach gave a somersault, adding to the fluttery feeling he’d had all day. He inhaled deliberately and placed a hand against his middle.  

“Are you feeling all right, Ham?” James McHenry asked from the doorway to the dressing room. Hamilton could see his quizzical expression in the mirror. “You’re looking a little pale.”

Hamilton smiled tremulously as he turned to address his friend. “I’m nervous,” he admitted with a shaky laugh.

McHenry smiled. “Ah, well, you’ve a right to be, I suppose. It’s a big day.”

“It is, indeed,” Hamilton agreed. “Thanks for being here, Mac.”

“Couldn’t let you get married with no guests, now could I? Your bride might realize how friendless and unloved you really are.”

“I wouldn’t want her to know that until at least after the wedding,” Hamilton parried back with a more genuine grin.

McHenry stepped into the dressing room and clapped him on the shoulder. “You look good, Ham. Now budge out of the way, would you? I need to pretty up a bit.” The army doctor’s waistcoat and uniform jacket were unbuttoned and his hair was slightly askew.

“Of course,” Hamilton agreed. “Perhaps we’ll find you a wife, as well.”

“Perish the thought, my dear Ham. After seeing what love has done to you, I have no interest in following you into the breach,” McHenry teased.

He stepped out into the upstairs guestroom and leaned against the wall by the window, looking out at the spectacular view. Snow glittered over the Albany landscape. What seemed like a hundred sleighs lined the drive outside from the many guests who had come to celebrate the day. Placing his hand against his stomach once more, he tried to fight down his nerves. He loved Betsey, and he had faith that theirs was a good match. Still, he’d laid awake almost all of last night worrying about the future. What if he couldn’t provide for her? What if he disappointed her? What if he turned out to be just like his father, spreading ruin and despair wherever he went?

He sighed, looking down at his suit again. He’d asked Betsey if she wanted him to wear his uniform, and she’d refused, preferring a civilian suit. He’d sent his measurements to an Albany tailor General Schuyler recommended and asked for the suit to be delivered to the Pastures. When the bill had arrived, his eyes had gone wide with shock. If he could ill afford to cloth himself to her satisfaction for one day, what did that mean for the rest of their lives?

“Are you sure you’re all right? You look like you’re going to vomit,” McHenry commented, coming out of the dressing room, buttoned up now with his hair properly styled and powdered.

“I’m fine,” Hamilton rushed to assure him. “Just…”

“Nervous,” Mac finished for him. When Hamilton nodded, he added, “For what it’s worth, I think every man who genuinely loves his bride is nervous on his wedding day. If you weren’t nervous, I’d say you made the wrong choice.”

Hamilton nodded again thoughtfully. “I don’t want to disappoint her,” he confessed.

McHenry laughed. “I don’t think that’s possible. That young miss is so utterly in love with you that you could show up downstairs covered in warts and smelling like a skunk and she’d still think she was the luckiest girl in the world.”

That prompted another shaky laugh from Hamilton. “Thanks,” he replied. “But it’s not today I’m really worried about. It’s everything that comes after. I’m not sure I’m going to make a very good husband.”

“One day at a time, Hammy,” McHenry told him seriously. “Why don’t we go downstairs now? You’ll drive yourself mad sitting around up here worrying over the rest of your life.”

“Do you have the ring?” Hamilton asked anxiously, halting in the doorway.

“Of course I have the ring,” McHenry assured him.

Hamilton let McHenry herd him out of the room and he tried to shake off the anxiety. This was a happy day, he told himself, forcing a smile onto his lips. He was marrying a beautiful, kind, and loving woman. Everything else could be dealt with later.

Downstairs, the Schuyler’s parlor was nearly bursting with Eliza’s relatives and friends. General Schuyler motioned him over towards the fireplace where he was standing beside a reverend. He was grateful that McHenry stayed by his side, bumping elbows with him when they came to a stop beside his soon to be father-in-law. “There you are, son,” Schuyler beamed. He turned back to the reverend and introduced him. “This is Colonel Hamilton, and Major McHenry, both of General Washington’s staff.”

Thus began a dizzying set of introductions to what felt like the entirety of New York society. That sick, anxious feeling began to bloom in his middle again as he greeted judges, congressmen, landed gentry and the wealthiest of New York’s businessmen. He did little more than smile like a simpleton, allowing Mac and General Schuyler to carry the conversation. He didn’t belong here, he panicked silently. He wasn’t like these men, and it was only a matter of time before they figured it out.

“We’re ready to begin, now,” Mrs. Schuyler announced suddenly from the doorway to the parlor. Several ladies began to make their way into the already crowded room. General Schuyler pushed him into the center before the fireplace to stand aside of the reverend who was to perform the ceremony. The only thing that kept him from bolting out of the room was McHenry’s steady presence at his elbow.

McHenry patted him on the back comfortingly and Hamilton looked around to give him a grateful smile. McHenry smiled back then nodded his head towards the door. Hamilton looked around and felt as though a hush had come over the world.

Eliza was the most beautiful woman in the world. He’d swear it on his life. She wore a white patterned gown with a quilted petticoat and an embroidered neckerchief, her hair piled high in the French fashion and lightly powdered. But it was her face that captivated him. She looked so earnest, contented happiness seeming to radiate from her smile. Those gorgeous, glittering black eyes of hers met his and he felt suddenly that his whole life had been leading him to this moment. The anxiety faded to nothing.

General Schuyler kissed Eliza’s forehead before giving her hand to him. Hamilton squeezed her hands in his own. He couldn’t seem to tear his focus away from her face even as the reverend began to speak.

After some minutes, the reverend’s steady voice paused. In the silence, he at last tore his gaze away to see the reverend looking at him expectantly. “My apologies, sir,” he said, which caused a swell of good-humored laughter to reverberate from all corners of the room.

“Will you take this woman to be thy wedded wife, Colonel?” the reverend prompted again with a wide, expectant smile.

Oh, Lord, that was an embarrassing moment to let his attention wander. He could feel his face growing hot, and he was sure his cheeks had turned bright red. “I do,” he said firmly, looking back at Eliza with a sheepish smile.

She shook her head at him, smiling beatifically, her eyes so full of love that he felt moisture spring into his own. His vow completed, the reverend began to speak to Eliza.

“….to love, honor, and obey him, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do part you,” the reverend said.

A flicker of displeasure passed over her features. Fear gripped him again, so strong he felt lightheaded. It was just occurring to her now what a life with a poor, illegitimate orphan would mean. She was going to say no. She was going to leave him.

“I do,” she said, staring into his eyes as she spoke. Relief swept over him. He had imagined that look, allowed his insecurities to twist his perception, he told himself. Of course she’d said yes. He wanted badly to kiss her.

“Do you have rings to exchange?” the reverend asked.

Hamilton turned back to McHenry, who pulled the ring from his pocket and handed it over. It wasn’t of the highest quality, but he’d had it designed specially. He hoped she liked it.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” he repeated after the reverend as he slid the twisted gold onto her finger.

“You may kiss,” the reverend invited at long last.

Hamilton gathered her into his arms and gave her a long, deep kiss as the guests applauded warmly around them. Her arms wrapped around his neck in turn, her fingers twisting in his queue. When he finally released her lips, she grinned up at him.

“You scared me for a moment there,” she told him softly once the reverend had stepped away to confer with the church clerk. “What a time to let your mind wander.”

He felt his cheeks burning again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I forgive you,” she said. “I’m not particularly pleased with those vows anyway.”

His brow furrowed again. So he hadn’t imagined that flash of displeasure after all.

“Until death do part you,” she repeated with a frown. “As though death could change my feelings for you.”

He felt all the breath leave his body as he realized what she was saying. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but stare at her in wonder. She leaned into him again, holding him close, and whispered in his ear, “I’ll love you forever.”

“Forever,” he echoed.

She pulled back and nodded firmly. “That’s better.”

What in the world had he done, for a woman such as this to make him such a promise? Struggling for a way to respond, he looked down at the ring on her hand.

“Take your ring off,” he directed.

She pulled her hand away from him. “No.”

He laughed. “Please? I want to show you something.”

She looked skeptical, but she slowly twisted the metal band off her finger and handed it back to him. He carefully worked his fingernail into the groove so the two metal halves broke apart. A little gasp came from his wife. His wife. He felt a silly grin stretch his face at the thought as he looked up at her.

“It’s all right,” he assured her. “Look.”

Inside, he’d had his name and an ampersand engraved on one half, and her name engraved on the other so that together they read ‘Alexander & Elizabeth.’ She examined the ring, her eyes growing watery as she looked back up at him. “Our names.”

“So we’ll always be together,” he told her. He lined their names up to snap the halves back together and slid the ring back onto her finger, giving her hand a little kiss after.

“Dinner is served in the dining room,” Mrs. Schuyler announced. “Then, of course, we will have dancing and refreshments in parlor.”

Hamilton felt his stomach rumble in hunger. He’d been too nervous to eat this morning, but now he felt famished.

“Are you ready?” Eliza asked him.

He smiled and offered her his arm. With her by his side, he was ready for anything.  

 

___

 

“ _All these attendants Ham are thine,_

_Be’t yours to treat them as divine,_

_To cherish what keeps love alive;_

_What makes us young at sixty five._

_What lends the eye its earliest fires;_

_What rightly managed still inspires.” *_

-By James McHenry, for Alexander Hamilton on the occasion of his marriage


	2. Wedding Night

Eliza carefully brushed a stand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear, and then leaned back from the mirror to critically examine the result. That was better. Her gaze moved down and she twisted to the side, sure to stand up straight to properly see her figure. The gauzy white night gown fit fairly well, although she didn’t fill out the top as much as she’d have liked. She pulled at the fabric, trying and failing to make her chest look fuller. She faced herself straight on once more. Well, unless there was a way to move some of the weight from her thighs into her bosom in the next few minutes, this was as good as it was going to get, she decided.

She exited the dressing room, stepping into the upstairs guest room Hamilton had slept in the night before. Their room, now. When she’d first come in here, as the celebration downstairs was winding down, she’d been secretly thrilled to see the bed where he’d slept. The thought of lying there with him had been incredibly arousing.

Now, alone, faced with the prospect of actually lying down there, she paused. It wasn’t that she was scared of sex, exactly. She was a virgin, and a good Christian girl, but she’d had plenty of urges and impure thoughts over the years. Her new husband had played a featured role in many of those late night fantasies. She very much wanted to make love to him.

Damn Angelica, she sighed.

“Did it hurt, when you and John first made love?” Eliza had spent several minutes screwing up the courage to ask her older sister that question when they had gone upstairs that night. Angelica was slowly brushing out her hair after helping her out of her dress.

“A little,” Angelica had answered. “John was a little hasty and overenthusiastic the first time. I’m sure Hamilton won’t make that mistake, though.”

Eliza had frowned in confusion. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, I believe Hamilton is…shall we say, a bit more experienced in these matters.” Eliza had seen her sister smirking in the mirror. That was when the anxiety had seized her.

She was a virgin, but Angelica was probably right in thinking her new husband wasn’t. What if she was bad at sex? What if he was disappointed with her?

She placed a hand to her stomach, trying to calm herself. And then, touching her flat abdomen, a whole different set of concerns entered her mind. She’d always wanted children, but the picture in her mind was always of some distant point in the future. She could get pregnant tonight. Was she really ready to be a mother?

A knock at the door jolted her out of her thoughts. That must be him, she panicked. She hadn’t heard him approaching. “Just a minute,” she called.

She should get in the bed. She wanted to, but her feet felt stuck to the floor. Her heart was pounding madly, like it was going to burst out of her chest. Oh, God, she couldn’t do this. She plopped down next to the bed, wrapping her arms around herself as she leaned back against the bedframe. The wooden floor felt chilly against her bare legs, even with the fire crackling merrily in the grate nearby.

“Eliza?” Hamilton called, tapping at the door again. “It’s just me. Can I come in?”

She gnawed at her lower lip and stayed silent. The door cracked open and he peeked inside. When he spotted her, he opened to door a little more.

“Eliza? Are you all right?” His voice was gentle.

She shrugged, not daring to meet his eye.

The door closed with a soft tap. He stepped over to her and settled himself onto the floor beside her.

“You’ll get your new suit dirty,” she whispered.

He chuckled softly. “I don’t mind.”

He was lying, she thought. That suit had been expensive, and she knew that he didn’t have much money. That _they_ didn’t have much money, she amended. Knowing he’d gone to the expense to fulfill a girlhood fantasy of hers had touched her deeply.

They sat quietly together for a minute, before Hamilton asked, “What’s wrong?” He leaned over a little, bumping shoulders with her. “Talk to me, Betsey.”

She looked up at him finally. The firelight danced over his face and made his eyes sparkle. His lips were quirked up into just a hint of smile.

She told him, “I’ve never done this before.”

Hamilton let out a surprised breath of laughter. “Well, I should hope not.”

“Have you?” she asked seriously.

Hesitating for a beat, he answered her honestly. “I have.” He looked ashamed, to his credit.

She nodded, considering. She liked that he was honest with her, at least. Although, hearing his admission raised another concern suddenly. “You don’t…you don’t have any…you know…diseases, right?”

He flushed deep red and looked away. “No.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Right,” she said, looking down as well. She wasn’t sure if she was glad or mortified to be having such a candid conversation with him right now.

He sighed, seeming to consider his next words carefully. “Even though I…this…tonight,” he struggled, uncharacteristically inarticulate. He huffed a little, frustrated.

“Tonight is special to me, too,” he managed at last. “Even though I’ve done this before, I was never in love. Being with you, making love to you, means a great deal to me. It’s something worth waiting for, and I regret that I didn’t.”

She glanced over at him. She wished he'd waited, too, but clearly it was a too late to lecture him on chastity. Being angry with him wouldn’t change anything. She nodded and leaned her head on his shoulder.

A harsh December wind beat at the window and a draft swept through the room. Eliza shivered. Hamilton placed his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him. She melted into his warm embrace. Before long, she was curled up, half on his lap, with her arms around his neck. They stayed sitting on the floor for a long while.

He broke the silence first. “Eliza? I’m starting to get a crick in my back. Do you think we could get in bed now?” She tensed. He must have felt it, because he added quickly, “Just so we’re more comfortable. Nothing else has to happen until you’re ready.”

“Really?” she asked, surprised.

He looked a little wounded. “Do you think I’d force you?”

She smiled at him, her shoulders relaxing, and shook her head. It was a husband’s right, but Hamilton had never struck her as the violent, domineering type. “Of course not.”

They stood. Eliza clambered up into the warm bed, drawing the blankets up around her quickly. Hamilton hesitated again, standing next to the bed.

“I…I’d like to undress,” he told her.

Right. Of course he did. Eliza didn’t think he’d sleep in his waistcoat and tails. The thought of him undressing made her heart speed up again, but now anxiety wasn’t the only cause.

She nodded. As he moved towards the dressing room, she called out, “Wait.” When he looked back at her, she added, “Undress in here. Please.”

The request seemed to surprise him, but he agreed. She tugged the blankets close around her as she watched him untie his cravat, toe off his shoes, unbutton his tailcoat, then his waistcoat. He placed each item aside with care, then sat on the bed to pull off his stockings. The bed shifted with his added weight. He stood again, his fingers going to the buttons of his breeches. His head turned back over to her, uncertain. She met his eyes, smiling a little wider this time, then looked back down to where his fingers danced over the buttons of his bottoms. He undid the buttons and pushed the fine material down over his hips. The breeches made a rustling sound as they pooled on the floor. When he bent forward to retrieve them, his undershirt rode up to reveal a good deal more of his thighs and just a hint of his rear.

He climbed into the bed beside her, wiggling around to lay on his side. He fussed with the blankets a little, settling them around him before he looked to her.

“We could, maybe, hold each other?” Eliza suggested tentatively.

He smiled warmly and scooted a little closer. Eliza reached out to slide her arm around his narrow waist. He held her gently, his hand staying at her mid-back as she adjusted to being this close to him in bed. She rubbed her hand along the small of his back, then down along his hip, where she’d watched him slide his breeches free moments before. Next, she trailed her palm down along his stomach, then up across his chest, before she clutched at his shoulder. He allowed her to explore, laying passively as she touched him.

She scooted closer to him still, so they were pressed close. His feet rubbed against hers, their legs starting to tangle.

“A kiss?” she suggested. He tipped his face close to hers and their lips met, chastely at first, the same sort of kisses he’d given her in Morristown nearly a year before. Eliza poked her tongue out from behind her teeth and pushed it against his soft lips. His lips yielded easily, his mouth falling open slightly as his tongue pressed softly against hers. A moan fell from her lips. She adjusted yet closer, gripping at his shoulders as their kiss deepened.

He rolled slightly, his body shifting over hers.

She pulled back, feeling suddenly trapped and confined. Panic swept over her again. “Stop,” she said breathlessly.

He stopped and pulled away quickly. “Sorry,” he whispered. She studied his face to see if he was frustrated or upset with her, but he looked as affectionate and loving as ever.

“Not yet,” she whispered.

“All right,” he agreed, scooting back a little. She reached out to touch his hair. Her kind, patient, loving husband.  She sat up, looking down at him.

“Take off your shirt,” she heard herself demand huskily. His beautiful eyes lit up with amusement, but he scrambled to follow her instruction, pulling the shirt over his head and discarding it on the floor beside the bed. When he laid back again, she examined his bare torso, her head tilting slightly.

He was thin, perhaps a tad underweight. His hips jutted out sharply and his ribs were visible, but his chest and stomach were covered over with a fine layer of lean muscle. She laid her palm against his stomach again, running her hand up over his chest, letting her thumb slide over his rosy right nipple. He let out a low moan.

A strange boldness compelled her to pull off her night gown as well, so that she too was naked in the bed.  His eyes fell from her face immediately, staring unabashedly at her bare chest. She felt a tingling sensation where he looked at her.

She inched closer to him again, laying back against the pillows.

“Tell me you love me,” she requested.

“I love you,” he said hoarsely. He smiled. “I’m afraid that’s as poetic as I’m capable of being right now.”

“Good enough,” she said, kissing him again. Desire flooded over her as her bare skin moved against his, making her throb and ache for him. “I’m ready.”

“Thank God,” Hamilton moaned, shifting over her again.

All logical thought quickly fled from Eliza’s mind.  

When they finished, Hamilton collapsed onto his side next to her. They were a mass of sweaty, tangled limbs. His hand laid possessively over her belly as they struggled to catch their breath. She noticed his eyes were slightly glazed. She closed her own, drifting pleasantly.

She felt utterly satisfied, the anxiety from earlier a distant memory. She loved her husband. The consequences of that could be managed later. And yet, hand in hand with the satisfaction came the growing desire to make love to him again. Smiling, she shifted to be closer to him and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

He responded lazily, his hand stroking her hip absently. When she pulled back to look at him, he moved his hand to cover his mouth as a great yawn overtook him. She frowned, fighting disappointment as she noticed his slightly bruised eyelids.

“Are you tired, sweetheart?” she asked.

His eyes popped open. “What? No,” he said quickly. “I’m awake.”

She raised her brow at him and he gave her another of his sheepish smiles. “I didn’t sleep well last night,” he admitted finally.

“Why?” she asked, brushing her thumb through his hair again.

He adjusted on the pillows and met her eyes. “I was nervous.”

“About today?”

He nodded sleepily. She smiled, her heart overflowing with fondness and love. Just when she thought she couldn’t love him anymore, he had to get sleepy and endearing.

“Well, except for the part where you almost missed saying your vows, I thought it went very well,” she teased him.

“That was your fault.”

“My fault?” she echoed in disbelief. “How was it my fault?”

“You were too beautiful, standing there. It was distracting.”

“Ah, your poetry is starting to coming back.”

“Not poetry,” he contradicted around another yawn. “Just the truth.”

“Why don’t you go to sleep, honey?” she suggested.

He shook his head. “It’s our wedding night. I can’t just go to sleep.”  

She sensed she’d tripped his stubborn streak, and struggled to find a way neutralize it. “Well, how about you just rest your eyes? Take a little nap?”

“Mm,” he hummed agreeably, adjusting again in the bed so that his face was smooshed into the pillows. “Yes. A nap sounds…perfect.”

Eliza pulled the blankets up around them and snuggled close against him. He rolled onto his back as his breathing evened. Adjusting with him, she pillowed her head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. His breath displaced her loose hair, tickling her face slightly. She squeezed him tight, sure he would sleep through the night now.

Her love  for him was a part of her now, wrapped around her soul, tangled up in her being so that she could never be free of it, not even if she wanted to be. It was a little frightening, a little overwhelming, to love someone so much. But there was nothing she could do about it.

Closing her eyes, she whispered, “I’ll love you forever.”

___

“ _(And thus ye lay the happiest pair_

_A rosy scent enriched the air_

_While to a music softly sounding_

_Breathing, panting, slow, rebounding)_ ”*

-James McHenry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Once again, a quote from James McHenry's wedding poem for Hamilton. 
> 
> I've re-written this like three times now. Trying to capture love, desire, and anxiety all at once is tough. I hope it turned all right. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Poor, silly, anxiety- riddled Ham. Of course Eliza loves you! 
> 
> A couple of notes:  
> (1) If you haven't seen Eliza's wedding ring yet, you should google it. It really does come apart, and their names are engraved inside. It's held at Columbia with their wedding handkerchiefs and the Peale miniature which was thought to be Ham's wedding gift to Eliza. (I must say, part of me feels bad that she wasn't buried with it, but it's pretty cool to be able to see it.)  
> (2) No one knows exactly what Ham and Eliza wore on their wedding day, but we do know that Ham asked Eliza what she wanted him to wear (See Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Schuyler, 5 October 1780). And finally,  
> (3) *The poem at the end is a quote from the last stanza of a real poem written by James McHenry as a wedding gift for Hamilton. It's on Founder's Online if anyone wants to read the whole thing. 
> 
> Also, the rating on this is likely to go up, as I do have a second chapter planned ;)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed! Kudos/comments are loved and appreciated!


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